


Let Elle Live

by kbokbok



Series: Hella Dave [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cute, Drabble, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Podfic Welcome, Way Too Much Backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:39:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8224111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbokbok/pseuds/kbokbok
Summary: Here. Have a Dave Strider who has is officially done with being too cool to let people know he cares about them and has emotions (as well as a couple Daves who haven't quite got there yet). He is really fucking excited about all this fucked-up family he suddenly has.Alpha Dave's perspective. Basically schmoopy cuddle prn (not actually porn) in the revived AU that I'm working on, currently titled Hella Dave.





	

You’re up watching a movie, curled up on the couch. It’s all just passively coming into your brain. You might be drooling.

Lil Hal wanders into view, carefully not in front of the screen. And it’s a flashback to you and a genre of foster father who lived their lives by trudging home from work and socking out on the couch until they had to go to bed. You remember viscerally asking the nice ones if they wanted to hear about something that happened at school, or play a game of catch (if they liked baseball), or maybe help you with homework you knew how to do. Anything to get them to pay attention to you. 

“Hey, bud, y’wanna join?” You pull your knees up a little, leave more room at the end of the couch. “Elle Woods is kickin’ ass n takin’ names.”

“I want.” Your littlest bro scowls. “I want to maintain physical contact over an extended period of time in whatever fashion you find acceptable. Please.”

There was one foster dad when you were little, a drywaller who came home with white mud all over his clothes, not allowed to sit down until he washed off the dust. He use to kiss you on the forehead and call you sweetheart, kiddo, little guy; he taught you how to massage his socked feet. In hindsight, you were probably about six and doing a pretty shit job, but he’d always thank you and give you a hug, let you drape yourself over him while he watched action movies and cop shows. 

“Bro cuddles?” You consider the logistics, ignoring the warmth that wants to make you hug this strange little brother and call a cyborg sweetheart. “You’re small, wanna curl up behind my legs? Wait, nachos, that’d be the danger zone. How about…” you twist over onto your back and pat your chest. “Put your head here, and squish your feet into the cushions. I advise removing the shades, don’t need to be impaled.”

AR nods, a tight little gesture that reminds you of a little kid trying not to cry. He climbs over you, careful about his knees, and insinuates his calves into the couch. His head touches down on your sternum, a solid little weight to remind you that this little brother is a half metal. “Thank you, Dave.” His arms are tucked up, tight fists under his shoulders, elbows close to his ribs like he doesn’t want to encroach.

“I like dem cuddles, anytime, anywhere.” You scat a few bars of the Kim Possible theme song. “Can I hug you?”

AR does a little wiggle like he’d like to burrow into you, the same as the couch. “Permission granted. Could also be expanded to hair touching and back stroking, if the urge strikes,” he says without pause.

“Sweet.” You give him one tight squeeze with both arms, just crush him a little like the Dirk gene pool seems to like. After a moment, he nuzzles you, then twists a little more to get his ear flat on your sternum. You take that as a sign to loosen up, watch the movie, and pet his back a little. Some of the knobs of his spine are too hard and round, all the way through his skin. AR’s ports.

He breathes, but his breath is too hot to be human, since your bro thermo-regulates with his lungs more than his sweat glands. AR is also the densest Strider, even if Bro is built like a pit bull. His cheek, pressed close, is apparently flesh, though you can feel the hard ridges of his glow-strips, which lead to mechanical eyes that never blink, though he has eyelids he can pull over them. Lil Hal just doesn’t need to often, as his shades protect him from all and sundry assaults. 

You know what your job is. Your littlest bro—it’s hard not to think of him as the baby of the family, even if he’s incalculably intelligent—asked for some “maintained physical contact,” and you’re going to deliver all the hair touching and back stroking he can stand.

When Elle shows up dressed as a playboy bunny, even the tiny bits of attention you’re paying the movie are enough to give you the sense that something is off. The comedic timing isn’t quite right, you notice as you focus a bit more. The camera is lingering a little at the cut shots and scenery pans. ‘Just everything a bit slow,’ you think, wonder if you’re having a stroke, and then it’s obvious.

“Bud, we can watch another movie after this one. Fair warning, I might fall asleep, but a marathon is something we can do.” You give AR a good squeeze, not letting up. “But I need you to stop slowing down my girl and let her live.”

He makes a grumbling noise in the back of his throat, arms spreading out to be three-quarters of a hug. “Time player,” Lil Hal berates himself.

You nod with satisfaction as the movie returns to full speed. “Alright, alright, alright. You still doing good?” You cup one hand over his head, that ultra-fine Strider hair slipping through like water.

“Yes,” he says, precise and sharp.

You two end up watching a series of early-2000s chick flicks, but you’re asleep before Elle get her bill through Congress. It’s almost morning when AR is pulling himself out of your grip. You yawn and sit up with him, and you could blame the sleep-muzziness for the way you kiss his forehead and say, “G’night, sweetheart.” Your fingers brush his hair back into shape without your permission, then you flop back down on the couch. You haven’t quite realized what you’ve done when there’s a blanket floating down over you, the work of two flashsteps so that you’re alone before it settles across you.

There’s a solid ten minutes after your eyes snap open just going, ‘WTF, Strider’ in your head, but eventually it settles down. You’ve always been desperate for attention, for people other than your one Real Friend to make a connection with. Now you’ve got a whole slew of brothers and if your clingy shit doesn’t bother them, then fuck it. 

They’re yours.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, big section of notes coming. This is a drabble that's part of a bigger story I'm writing, Hella Dave. It's basically a self-indulgent "let's see characters interact from a new perspective" "everybody lives even if that causes problems cuz we gotta have some plot" story.
> 
> But on the everybody lives bit: I don't want to miss any characters. I'm gonna list the ones that I'm thinking of including now, and if you guys feel like it, you can remind me or argue about inclusion, whatever. Alright? Alright.
> 
> The Rules: All game players, their Guardians, lususes, and Ancestors, excluding Feferi and Meenah's Glubglub because he is a horrorterror thing and cannot be revived. All sprites are revived except any that are recombinations of two or more SENTIENT creatures. Sorry Nepeta-Davesprite fans. The sprites are where it gets tricky for me. And we're only counting those that existed after John stuck his finger in all the pies.
> 
> Striders: Dave, Davesprite, Dirk, AR, Hella Dave, Bro.  
> Lalondes: Rose, Ret-conned Rose (from sprite), Roxy, Mom, Alpha Rose.  
> Egbert-Crockers: John, Nanasprite, Nana, Egdad, Jane, Crockpop, Old John  
> Harley-Englishes: Jade, Grandad, Bec, Jake, Old Jane  
> Cherubs: Caliborn and Calliope.
> 
> Troll formula: Main Troll, Their Ancestor, Their Lusus, Their Dancestor, Their Dancestor's Lusus, and Their Dancestor's as-of-yet-unseen Ancestor 
> 
> (holy shit that's a lot of trolls. I promise I'm not gonna try to give each one of them screentime, that would be insane. Just the ones that catch Hella Dave's eye, aka my favorites and the ones he HAS to meet)
> 
> I Am Not Dealing With Dead Leprechauns and Carapacians (That means you, Jack).
> 
> I know I'm missing some troll-sprites from the very end (I enjoy Equius enough that there could be a second one...) but I'm torn between making duplicates like Dave and Davesprite (which is obviously a different case) or just declaring those troll-players revived sprites, which is a slightly different existence. Really, I just need to look at which trolls I'm dealing with in order to decide. (Like two Solluxes, one 6 sweeps, the other one 7.5 could be interesting, but then he's, again, a different case, as he is both dead and living, unlike, say, Eridan.)
> 
> Seriously, comment or message me, I could use a sounding board!


End file.
